


There You Are, Lynch

by Merlinites



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:07:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3968979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merlinites/pseuds/Merlinites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronan Lynch was not in love with Joseph Kavinsky. He was in love with Adam Parrish. But Adam Parrish had no eyes for Ronan Lynch, and eyes were all Joseph Kavinsky had for Ronan Lynch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There You Are, Lynch

Ronan Lynch was not in love with Joseph Kavinsky. He was in love with Adam Parrish. But Adam Parrish had no eyes for Ronan Lynch, and eyes were all Joseph Kavinsky had for Ronan Lynch.

Ronan liked someone having eyes for him, though he would never admit it to anyone (even himself). Dreaming of a world where Adam brushed his skin with calloused fingertips and soft lips was all well and good until he woke up. Until he woke up, and he was alone again, and no one’s fingertips were dragging across his tattoo and digging into his hips, and no one’s lips were pressing against his and leaving marks on the inside of his thighs. Once he woke up that world was gone. That Adam that looked at him – really _looked_ at him – was gone. And that feeling was gone. That feeling of being wanted and, fuck, _loved_. It was gone and the world was back in black.

Except for Kavinsky.

Kavinsky didn’t whisper sweet nothings into Ronan’s ear the way that dream Adam did. His fingertips didn’t touch with reverence. His lips were not soft. Kavinsky breathed harsh curses, and touched Ronan just to leave bruises, and his lips were hard and demanding.

But he knew Ronan. Kavinsky knew Ronan in a way no one else ever had, or ever would. Ronan could let his wild side, his dark side, every side he had ever hidden from anyone, even himself … he could let them all out with Kavinsky. And Kavinsky’s eyes would light up as these sides of Ronan made themselves known in abandoned fields and Kavinsky’s bed and on Ronan’s floor. His eyes would light up and he would whisper “there you are, Lynch”, like he knew that Ronan had spent a lifetime hiding things.

And even though Ronan did not love Kavinsky, even though his heart did not speed in his chest at the sight of him, and he didn’t wish to protect Kavinsky from the world, and he didn’t dream of Kavinsky (he didn’t have to) – Kavinsky gave him something. Something to look forward to. Something to hold on to. Something to touch. Something to spend the long hours of the day with. Something to share.

But it wasn’t love, Ronan told himself whenever they shared every inch of themselves with each other and had the other crying out their name into the abandoned fields or Kavinsky’s bed or Ronan’s floor. He didn’t love Kavinsky, even if the other boy completely unmade him. Even if the other boy knew the inside of his mind. Even if the other boy just simply _knew_ him for who he was. He didn’t love him.

“I don’t love you,” Ronan breathes, breath fogging up the back window of the BMW.

Kavinsky’s teeth shine blinding white in the darkness. “You tell me every time, Lynch,” he replies, folding his arms behind his head. Ronan thinks his arms look nice like that, and he doesn’t stop himself from leaning forward and latching onto one with his mouth. “But do you believe it?”

Ronan’s mouth moves across Kavinsky’s arm to his neck, where his tongue slips forward between his lips to taste the pulse at the base of Kavinsky’s throat. “Do you?” he asks, lifting up above Kavinsky to peer into those feline eyes.

Kavinsky raises one eyebrow in response. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Ronan narrows his eyes, and moves so that he has Kavinsky pinned to the seat beneath him. A sly smile plays on Kavinsky’s lips and Ronan has the feeling that he wanted this all along. Forgetting, or pretending to forget, the fact that he’s been played, Ronan rolls his hips against Kavinsky’s, and the boy beneath him releases a laugh and a breath in the same moment. Ronan doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything sexier.

“Tell me,” Ronan orders, threading one hand between their hips and leaning over to breathe the words into Kavinsky’s ear.

“Tell you what, Lynch?” Kavinsky asks, and the words come out as a bit of a gasp as Ronan’s fingers stroke him.

“If you believe me when I say I don’t love you,” Ronan says, pulling back to stare into Kavinsky’s eyes. They flash before he answers.

“Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t.”

Ronan smiles, and hovers his lips just above the other boy’s. “That’s good of you.”

“Why?” Kavinsky moans, Ronan’s hand making fast work of him.

“Because sometimes I do, and sometimes I don’t.”

And then Kavinsky is a boneless boy beneath him.


End file.
